The Familiar Yet Revolutionary Charm of ‘Girls Like Girls’
There’s something almost paradoxical about Girls Like Girls, Hayley Kiyoko’s feature directorial debut. On the surface, it’s a story we’ve seen before: two teenage girls falling in love. No groundbreaking plot twists, no avant-garde filmmaking techniques—just a simple, tender narrative. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how Kiyoko transforms the ordinary into something extraordinary. It’s a reminder that the most profound stories often lie in the mundane, in the moments we’ve all experienced but rarely see reflected so authentically on screen.
The Power of Familiarity
Personally, I think the film’s strength lies in its refusal to reinvent the wheel. Kiyoko doesn’t try to dazzle us with originality; instead, she leans into the universality of first love. The plot is straightforward: Coley (Maya da Costa), a shy newcomer, meets Sonya (Myra Molloy), a bubbly popular girl, and their friendship blossoms into something more. What many people don’t realize is that this very simplicity is what makes the story resonate. It’s not about reinventing the genre but about capturing the raw, unfiltered emotions that make these experiences feel both personal and universal.
A Visual and Emotional Symphony
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s visual language. Cinematographer Sonja Tyspin’s intimate close-ups and the warm, summery palette create a sense of nostalgia that’s almost palpable. From my perspective, this isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about immersing the audience in the world of these characters. The production design, particularly the mid-2000s details like the AOL Instant Messenger sounds, adds a layer of authenticity that’s both charming and deeply relatable. It’s a love letter to a specific time and place, but also to the timelessness of teenage emotions.
Chemistry That Transcends the Screen
The heart of the film, however, is the chemistry between da Costa and Molloy. Their performances are nothing short of mesmerizing. Da Costa’s Coley is a study in restraint, her longing for Sonya communicated through subtle glances and hesitant smiles. Molloy, on the other hand, brings a vibrant energy to Sonya, but it’s her character’s internal struggle that truly shines. As their relationship evolves, so does her performance, revealing layers of vulnerability and confusion. If you take a step back and think about it, this is where the film truly excels—in its ability to make us feel the weight of their connection.
Internal Struggles Over External Drama
What this really suggests is that Kiyoko understands the essence of young love: it’s not about grand gestures or external conflicts but about the battles we fight within ourselves. The script wisely avoids introducing dramatic obstacles like homophobic parents or societal backlash. Instead, the tension arises from Sonya’s inability to fully embrace her feelings. This raises a deeper question: why do we so often expect queer stories to be defined by external strife? Girls Like Girls challenges that narrative, focusing instead on the quiet, internal revolutions that are just as significant.
The Role of Family: A Missed Opportunity?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s treatment of Coley’s relationship with her father, played by Zach Braff. While Braff delivers a nuanced performance, the familial dynamic feels underdeveloped. Coley’s grief over her mother’s death is a crucial part of her character, but it often feels like a footnote to her romantic journey. In my opinion, this is a missed opportunity. Exploring how her family history intersects with her first love could have added even more depth to the narrative.
Why This Film Matters
What makes Girls Like Girls stand out isn’t just its execution but its intent. Kiyoko, who rose to fame as a musician with a strong queer following, brings a unique perspective to the story. Her decision to adapt her own song into a feature film feels like a natural evolution of her artistry. From my perspective, this film is more than just a love story—it’s a celebration of queer youth, of the joy and pain of discovering who you are.
Looking Ahead: The Future of Queer Cinema
If you take a step back and think about it, films like Girls Like Girls are part of a larger cultural shift. Queer stories are no longer confined to tragedy or struggle; they’re allowed to be messy, beautiful, and ordinary. This film is a testament to that progress, but it also raises questions about where we go from here. Will we see more stories that normalize queer experiences without sacrificing emotional depth? Personally, I’m hopeful.
Final Thoughts
Girls Like Girls is a film that stays with you, not because of its grandeur but because of its honesty. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most revolutionary stories are the ones that feel the most familiar. Kiyoko’s debut is a love letter to first love, to the confusion and exhilaration of youth, and to the quiet moments that shape us. What this really suggests is that in a world obsessed with the extraordinary, there’s still power in the ordinary—and that’s a message worth celebrating.
